The Broken Road
by NCCJFAN
Summary: It was time to get over him. Jordan takes a rotation in New York for year and meets Jack McCoy. Warning...not my typical JW story.
1. Welcome to New York

**Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan. Wish I did. But it all belongs to Tim.**

**This story came from a discussion on the Coffeeroom Boards between Sam Lover and me. If you've followed Jill Hennessey's career, chances are you are acquainted with her work as Claire on Law and Order. She was awesome, but Claire and Jordan are VERY different characters. And the ways the characters interacted with their love interests are just as opposite. Jill's work with Sam Waterson (ADA Jack McCoy on L&O) was more subtle and Claire didn't have the issues Jordan does. **

**Unfortunately Dick Wolfe killed Claire off. Which made a lot of people mad. Including me. So it's kind of been a lot of us Hennessey fans fondest dream that somehow, someway Sam Waterson would find his way to CJ for a guest appearance.**

**However, we're not holding our collective breaths.**

**So this is my take on what would happen if Jordan did a rotation in NYC and met Jack. Jordangirl also has a wonderful story on fanfic about this. Hers is lighter than mine…pre-Woody angst. I had to involve Woody and all his present issues.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**Sherri**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Welcome to New York**

The first thing she noticed about New York was the smell.

It smelled different than Boston…even at the airport, before she got into the city…it was as if this was God's way of telling her and her senses that Boston was well behind her now. And it wasn't necessarily a bad odor…it was just _different_. While Boston carried a distinctively old atmosphere – one filled with the ghosts of musket fire and American history, New York smelled of hundreds of cultures and bodies and commerce.

In short, just as Dorothy was no longer in Kansas, Jordan was no longer in Massachusetts. Nope. Not in Boston. Not in Massachusetts. Not after Woody….his being shot by the sniper and pushing her out of his hospital room and his life.

She had tried hard, you know. After he had told her to get out of not only his hospital room, but also his life, she had tried to regain some kind of hold on him, either professionally or personally. She wasn't picky, she'd take either one kind of relationship right now. She loved him. It had taken her four years to finally face up to her emotions, but she did love him.

It took her less than five minutes to realize her worst fears. When she told him what was in her heart, he had soundly rejected it as pity and sent her away. Like all nearly all the other men in her life, he had abandoned her. The same way her father did. The same way her other boyfriends had done. The same way Garret did.

She had worked hard to maintain some kind of presence in his life. But with him on LD and desk work only until he recovered, it was impossible to maintain a professional relationship with him. And personally, he no longer cared if they were even friends.

So she had languished in the land of long-for relationships…unrequited love…growing more and more distant to her friends, withdrawing into her own shell, until finally Garret had taken enough. There was an opportunity available for a ME rotation with the New York City morgue. He recommended her for the position.

"Are you nuts?" she asked. "That's a year out of my life."

"And that's twelve months you can be learning new things….that morgue is on the cutting edge of technology and their detectives don't take any crap …you can learn a life time of things in a year. Plus have the added benefit of getting your personal life back together and begin to live again."

Jordan looked down at the top of her desk then. "It's that obvious." It wasn't a question.

"If it were anymore obvious, you'd have it tattooed on your forehead, Jor. Go to New York. Get over him. Move on with your life. God knows he's moved on with his."

Garret was right. Woody was dating another woman pretty steadily. Office gossip said the relationship was serious. They were talking about moving in together. Maybe even getting married. It seems this woman had no commitment issues and was more than ready to make Farm Boy happy.

"Take it, Jordan. Take the rotation," Garret continued to urge.

"Let me think about it…."

"I'll give you a couple of days…but I want you to take it. There's nothing keeping you here in Boston. Your dad is still not home. You don't have other obligations here. And Woody's no longer an option or a diversion." Garret smiled to soften his words. "Besides…it's only for a year …and all roads lead back to Boston, you know. Filled with pot holes, broken to pieces, or not."

But she had to give it one more try. She had to at least see what Woody's reaction would be. Gathering her courage, she found her way over to his office that afternoon. She knocked on the door, and felt her knees nearly buckle at his simple, "Come in."

"Jordan?" he had said, obviously surprised to see her after everything he had told her about staying away….and keeping away.

"Hi….got a minute?"

"Well, I don't think I'm about to get called out on a homicide," he said, a bitter edge to his voice. "What can I do for you, Jordan? No, I take that back – that commentwill open too many cans of worms. Why are you here?"

Jordan tried to give him one of her trademark smirks, but failed miserably. She shut the door to his office and sat down in front of him, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. For a moment she rubbed her hands together and gave that motion her full attention. Finally, she spoke. "There's a rotation position open with the morgue in New York City. Garret wants me to take it."

Woody nodded. "Professional training."

"Yeah. Something like that."

"You gonna do it?"

"I don't know." She stood and walked over to his window, gazing unseeing at the parking lot below. "It's for a year," she added softly.

"A year? That's a damn, long professional session."

"I know. They'll send an ME here and in return I'd go fill that ME's place."

"New York could be fun, Jor. Lots to do."

"And I wouldn't be here."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Which might be better for everyone."

"Might be."

Jordan swung back around to look at Woody, who was leaning back in his chair closely watching her. His gaze was bright and intense, but veiled his thoughts from her. She realized helplessly that this was the first time since she had met Woody Hoyt that she had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. He wasn't playing her friend…he was playing detective with her. She had seen the same look on his face when he interrogated suspects. Jordan swallowed hard. "I'm pretty sure I'll take it. I mean, it's only for a year….and there's nothing keeping me in Boston, right?"

Woody looked straight through her, unblinking and unflinching. "No. There's not."

She had gone back to Garret's office then, signed the papers, cleaned out her desk, and went home to pack. She called the morgue in New York, agreed to sublet her apartment to the ME from there and in return, she would take his. A computer session and an e-ticket later found her ready to go.

And now she was waiting at Kennedy airport for the NYC morgue chief ME to pick her up. A tallish lady with red hair soon made her way over to Jordan. "Dr. Cavanaugh?"

Jordan nodded. The woman held out her hand. "Betty Rogers, chief ME for New York City. Nice to meet you. And welcome to New York."


	2. You Look Familiar

**Disclaimer #2 I also don't own Law and Order. That belongs to Dick Wolfe. And I'm sorry…for me it hasn't been the same since Jerry died. L&O to me will always be linked to Lenny Briscoe.**

**Chapter Two**

**You Look Familiar**

For a month Jordan worked closely with Dr. Rogers, learning the procedures that the NYC morgue had…slightly different from Boston, but not entirely unknown territory for Jordan. She rarely had a one-on-one encounter with detectives during this time, but did find it odd that several people told her she looked "familiar."

"Are you sure you've never worked in New York before?" Betty asked her.

"Nope…Atlanta, Denver, LA, Boston…never New York"

"And you've always been an ME?"

"Yeah…"

"Never a lawyer?"

Jordan chuckled, thinking about her past opinions of lawyers. "No… never went to law school…Why?"

"You just bear a striking resemblance to a former ADA we had in here several years ago….her name was Claire. You two could have passed for sisters."

"Is she still here?"

Betty was silent for a moment and a far away look suddenly took over her expression. "No…unfortunately Claire was killed by a drunk driver … about fiveyears ago."

"Oh…I'm sorry."

Betty smiled at her. "Claire was special…we all miss her. I've been told that everyone has a twin somewhere…and you are hers."

Jordan let this go in passing, as the most she had gotten from anyone else was that "Gee-you-look-familiar-don't-I-know-you?" line. Until the day Dr. Rogers gave her permission to take a field call with a Detective Briscoe. "He's a nice guy…an older detective….just don't let him or his partner intimidate you," Betty warned. "They'll try…you're young and new."

Nodding, Jordan made her way out the door to meet the detective in Central Park. She quietly asked one of the uniform officers to point out the detective in charge. She was pushed toward a tall man in a trench coat. "Detective Briscoe?" she asked.

The man turned toward her and his face paled. "Claire?" he replied faintly.

Jordan shook her head. "No…although I've been told I look just like her. My name is Jordan…Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh. I'm the answering ME."

"Ah. I've heard about you. You're on loan from Boston, right?"

"On professional rotation. What do we have?" She turned her attention to the body that was partially hidden under some bushes – and hopefully away from anymore personal comparisons.

"Looks like a mugging…"

Jordan knelt to examine the body and take the liver temperature, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Briscoe was calling his partner over. She saw Briscoe motion toward her and then saw the other man glance at her and watched his face pale slightly also. "Damn…she does," the other man swore softly.

Sighing inwardly, Jordan stood and dusted her hands off. "If I can get some help loading him, I'll get him back to the morgue and do a work up. There's no ID on the body, so hopefully dentals will have a match. I'll call you as soon as I know something."

"Sure, sure…." Briscoe said. He spoke to two uniformed officers who began to help move the body. "Say, Dr. Cavanaugh…"

"Jordan…please…it's just Jordan, Detective Briscoe."

"And it's just Lenny…" he smiled at her, a warm expression that touched Jordan's heart. It had been longer than she cared to remember since she saw a smile that genuine. Not since the last time Woody had smiled at her and meant it. "Jordan…this is my partner Ray."

The other man, apparently Hispanic, extended his hand for her shake. "Nice to meet you. I hope we'll be working together often….I've heard you're one of the best in your field and that we were lucky to snag you away from Boston."

Jordan returned both of their smiles with one she hoped was just as sincere. "You have me for a year…I'm sure our paths will cross several times. I'll be in touch this afternoon about what I find out about our John Doe." She turned and climbed in the ME van with the driver.

Lenny's and Ray's gazes followed her. "You know who's going to have conniptions," Lenny warned.

"Yeah…but do you think it will be that bad? I mean, Claire's been gone five years," Ray replied.

"And he still has a picture on his desk of her. Plus, he really hasn't dated any since she died….if you ask me…the guy's gonna have conniptions. And that's putting it mildly," Lenny continued. "McCoy's never really gotten over losing her. Hell, none of us have."

* * *

McCoy scowled at his assistant. "Are you sure, Serena?"

"That's what Lenny said. And that's what the ME told him."

"Betty?"

"Yeah."

Jack McCoy sighed and closed his eyes. He hoped it was going to be quiet week. For once his court calendar was fairly light. Given those circumstances and the fact that Adam was on vacation, he had held the thought that he might actually get out of the office by Thursday at lunch at ride his bike through upper New York state, taking advantage of the opportunity to get out of the city for a while.

It wasn't going to happen.

"And she's sure all signs point to a mob hit?" he asked his assistant.

Serena nodded. "And not just any mob… the Albanian mob."

"Great….badder guys taking over from really bad guys." Jack opened his eyes and looked back down at the file in front of him.

"There is a bright spot in all of this," Serena said, propping on the side of his desk. Jack looked up at her expectantly. "The new ME…the one on rotation from Boston…she cracked a case with the Albanian mob in Massachusetts last year. She was instrumental in putting them away for a long time. Well…her and the detective she worked with."

Jack sat up straight then. "What's her name?"

"Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh."

"How long is she here for?"

"A year."

Jack grunted. "Good. Call her office. Tell Dr. Cavanaugh I'd like a word with her tomorrow morning."

Serena picked up the phone and called the morgue. Jack only vaguely listened to the woman's conversation until his assistant hung up. "She said she couldn't come first thing, she had an autopsy scheduled at nine. She'd be in after lunch." Serena's mouth quirked up at the corners. This Dr. Cavanaugh was the first person in a long time she had ever seen put off her boss. The only other person who could do that and get away with it was Adam Schiff, their boss.

"Really?" Jack asked in a tone that let Serena know he wasn't used to being put off. "So when should I expect her?"

"She said if it's a 'normal' autopsy, she'd be here around one. But she promised Briscoe she'd have all the reports done on his Central Park John Doe first thing tomorrow."

"Ah…a public official that actually keeps a promise….that's a first."

"She's from Boston….she doesn't know how things work here yet, Jack." How things worked was that Jack McCoy not only usually got his way, he was more than used to getting his way…and could be particularly irritable if that didn't happen.

"Maybe not…but she's about to learn."


	3. Jack

**Chapter Three**

**Jack McCoy**

"Hi…I'm Dr. Cavanaugh…I'm here to see Jack McCoy," Jordan told the petite blonde woman sitting outside of the ADA's office. _Short…blonde…blue eyes….suit…and reminds me too much of Devan_, Jordan thought absent-mindedly as the woman knocked on the door behind her. She heard the murmuring of low voices and then the young woman turned to face Jordan again.

"He'll see you now," she said. "And by the way, my name is Serena." She extended her hand to Jordan to shake. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. But could you give me some hint about what this is about?"

"Jack will go over the details with you," Serena replied.

"I know…I'd just like to know what's up before I face the ADA…what kind of trouble am I in?"

Serena laughed. "You're not in any trouble….he just wants to pick your brain about one of the cases you worked on in Boston that may have some ties here."

"Ah." Jordan took a deep breath and stepped through the tall, wooden doors that ushered her into Jack McCoy's office. She had asked Betty about the man…and nearly wished she hadn't. Renee' Walcott had the reputation for being tough. From what she had heard about Jack McCoy, he was beyond tough. He lived in bastard territory. "He takes no prisoners," she was warned. "Just stay on your toes…but for God's sake, always….always tell the man the truth. If you don't know an answer, tell him so. He hates lies."

_Well, at least that's something we have in common_, Jordan had thought.

"Dr. Cavanaugh?" Jack McCoy's voice brought Jordan out of her thoughts. She stepped towards his desk.

"Mr. McCoy?" Jordan held out her hand for him to shake it and saw his face turn just a shade paler than it had been a few minutes earlier. "Mr. McCoy? Are you okay?"

"Fine… fine… have a seat Dr. Cavanaugh. This won't take long." Jack quickly regained his composure and motioned towards his couch.

"Please…call me Jordan."

Jack nodded. "I need to talk to you about a case I understand you helped solve in Boston…one that involved the Albanian mob…I understand you and a Detective Hoyt were instrumental in shutting down some of that type of mob activity in Boston? We have strong reason to believe that the same Albanian mob has now surfaced here in New York City…I need to know what you know, Jordan." Jack's brown-eyed gazed held her pinned to the couch.

"There's not a whole lot to tell on my part," she began.

"Really?" Jack's eyes narrowed at her, trying to determine if this young ME was telling him the truth or protecting her jurisdictional rights over a Boston case.

"A woman was out walking her dog in a park…the dog found a femur bone. We began to search the area and found a total of seven bodies buried in a shallow, mass grave – the bodies of men who were members of the Irish mob in Boston."

Jack nodded. "The old Irish mob?"

"Yeah…Blackie Conroy's group. They controlled Boston's underbelly for years….Nigel Townsend, a criminalist I work with, found a bloody knife imbedded in some remaining soft tissue of one of the bodies. Dr. Garret Macy, the chief ME, was able to lift a print. We ran the print through the local and FBI data bases. Nothing. It wasn't until Garret and Woody – Detective Hoyt – ran the print through Interpol that we got a hit. From there, the Woody linked it to the Albanian mob." Jordan paused for a moment, considering how to phrase the next part of her story without saying anything that would reflect badly on Woody. "Through a recovered cell phone and an informant that Woody had on the inside loop of the Albanians, he was able to make an arrest."

"What did that show?" Jack asked, leaning forward and looking at her intently.

"That the Albanians had been quietly taking over the Irish mob for several years…bit by bit…territory by territory. And although the Irish had tried to retaliate and hold their ground, nothing could stop this new group. They had seen the worst kind of horrors in their own countries while they were at war. The Albanians thought nothing about using the same kind of tactics here to get whatever they wanted."

Jack grunted. That much he believed. He eyed Jordan again, sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, one hand on her face as she gazed out his window now, as if collecting her thoughts and remembering events that obviously had taken a toll on her. He could see it in the expressions that played across her face and her eyes.

Jack had been startled when she entered his office. Every nerve in his body had screamed "Claire," the minute she had said "Mr. McCoy." The similarities between the two women were startling…amazing…down right spooky.

But from what he could tell, this woman was nothing like his Claire…besides from the obvious. Jordan was tinier, her hair was longer…and while the eyes were nearly identical in the two women, the emotions that played in them were as different as night and day. Claire … his Claire… was – had been – a well-trained lawyer…Harvard- educated. She could mask her emotions. This woman's feelings played across her face like a movie script. However and whatever had happened with the Boston Albanian case had affected her. He doubted it was the number of bodies found…she had been an ME for sometime by then. Maybe it was the violent nature of the mob…maybe it was the upset in power from the Irish mob to a newer, more terrifying element.

"There's one thing you must keep in mind if you go after those guys," she said, softly, turning her face back to Jack.

He raised his eyebrows. "Go on…"

"They consider each other as family, whether they are related or not…and it's not just local. If there are Albanians in another city or state, they refer to them as 'cousins'. And with the Albanians, blood is truly thicker than water. They won't roll over on each other. Duty, honor, family….those are their priorities. And they won't hesitate to kill over them. Or die for them," she ended quietly.

_She must have lost someone over this case_, Jack mulled watching her closely. He had been a DA too long not to read body language well. Sometimes what wasn't said was more important than what was stated. "Jordan, can you get me a copy of your coroner's files on that case, as well as the detective's?" he asked quietly.

"Mine are no problem. I'll call Garret and he'll get them faxed over to you." She took a deep breath before she continued in a fainter voice. "I'll call…Woody…and see if he'll do the same."

"I can make the call if you think Hoyt will give you a hard time."

_If you only knew_, Jordan thought. "No…I'll call. You may have to follow through just for verification's sake, but I think he'll be okay with it."

Jack took out a business card from the desk drawer and flipped it over, writing something on the back. "The office phone and fax are on the front. These," he said, handing her the card with some hand printed numbers on the back, "are my personal cell phone, home phone, and home fax. Don't hesitate to use them." He grinned at Jordan.

The action made Jordan catch her breath. McCoy had been all business when she walked into his office…and she had reciprocated the atmosphere. But that smile…no, it wasn't dimples and crystalline blue eyes…instead it seemed like a brandy-warmed expression complemented by brown eyes that were filled with understanding. For a moment, Jordan had a hard time breathing correctly. "Thank you," she said, curling her fingers around the card. Then standing, she put the card in her back pocket. "I'll call Woody right away."

"Thank you, Dr. Cav…Jordan," Jack said, shaking her hand.

"No problem, Mr. McCoy."

"Jordan…it's Jack." He walked her to the door and opened it. "And don't forget to call me."

"I won't."

* * *

_Come on, Woody…pick up the damn phone…_She had tried his office. He wasn't there. She had tried his police cell phone. He didn't answer. She called his apartment, mildly surprised he hadn't changed his number. She got his answering machine: 

_Hey…this is Woody. You know how this works. Leave a message._

Well, she had done that. Twice in one hour. He wasn't returning her calls to his office voice mail, his cell voice mail, or his home phone.

_Beeeeeeeepppppp._

"Woody….Woody, this is Jordan," she began again. "If you're there, please pick up. I promise this is not in any way personal. It's business with the New York DA. Please…"

He heard her voice as he came through the door. It seemed eerily surreal to him…she had been gone nearly six weeks, and there wasn't a day that went by that something didn't remind him of her, whether it was walking by her old office at the morgue or her trademark sloppy signature on the paperwork in his files.

Or the lingering scent of her perfume on a jacket ….

She goes to New York and he still had a hard time exorcising her from his life…even with Allison to keep him company. He made a grab for the phone. "Jordan…."

"Woody….this is you, not a recording?"

He chuckled under his breath. For whatever reason she was calling, Jordan sounded nearly distraught. "No, it's me." He caught his breath. "How's New York, Jor?"

"It's good. How's home?"

"It's good, too."

"Umm…you're going to have messages from me on your office phone and cell. You can ignore them now. I've been trying to get in touch with you for a couple of hours…" her voice carried a concerned tone. "Are you okay, Woody? I mean, your back?"

"I'm fine, Jo. Honestly. I was out for a run."

"You're running? That's ….great. When did this happen?"

"I've gotten a lot better over the last three weeks. I'm off LD and desk duty. And while I'm not up to our old six-mile run, I'm running a couple of miles three times a week now."

"Woody…I'm so happy for you…" Her voice caught. He heard it. While he would never doubt the sincerity of her words, he in no way wanted the conversation to get any more personal than it was. It would be too painful…for both of them. And then there was Allison to consider.

He sighed. "What do you need, Jordan?" Woody finally asked, cutting to the chase. "You said this call had to do with the New York DA?" He wanted to steer their conversation back to a professional level.

Jordan caught the defiant tone and swallowed hard. In the recesses of her mind she had hoped that they would at least have a longer conversation. During her time in New York, she had been incredibly busy, but also incredibly lonely. She missed her friends…and the detectives there didn't mingle too much with the morgue staff after hours. She hadn't been there long enough to find the typical after work "hang outs" and since she was temporary, not many of her co-workers had thought about asking her to go out with them. She would be gone too soon for them to invest their time in building a relationship.

She missed Boston. She missed her friends. She missed him…ached for him, really. But that part of her life was now gone. He had pushed her away. He no longer wanted her.

"I….yeah…" Jordan stopped and composed herself for a minute. "The Albanian mob," she began, knowing it was a sore spot concerning Woody. "They've surfaced in New York City like they did in Boston. Jack McCoy, the DA here, found out we worked that case. He's already picked me clean. He was wondering if you would fax your files over to his office for him to look at…as a professional courtesy?" she finished cautiously.

Woody thought for a moment. The Albanian Mob….the group that had cost him his family…God forbid they re-surface anywhere. And if they're in New York, and she was in New York…he could nearly feel his blood pressure rise as he realized one thing.

He wasn't there to watch her back or cover her sweet ass.

_But it's not my responsibility to do that any longer_, he thought. _It's over between us. And once this DA, if he's any good, reads that file, he's going to know the havoc these mob guys can cause…and if they find Jordan is working with the New York DA's office and police…Surely, he'll know enough to make sure she stays off the case and out of sight…._

"Woody…are you still there?" she quietly asked.

"Yeah. Give me the number to your office and I'll fax it over first thing tomorrow morning."


	4. It's Really Over?

**Disclaimer #3. Don't own Rascal Flatts or their song _Bless the Broken Road. _**

**It's Really Over?**

**Chapter Four**

Getting her files from Garret had been a hell of a lot easier. When he had answered her call, they had talked for an hour and a half about everything….and nothing at all. Garret had sensed she was reluctant to hang up just because she wanted to hear ….needed to hear….familiar voices.

"Don't tell me Jordan Cavanaugh is homesick," he teased.

"I…well…maybe a little. I miss you guys. I miss my family." Her voice carried a note of longing Garret had never heard out of her. Maybe Jordan was not only maturing, but softening up a little…mellowing out.

Maybe he had made a mistake sending her away for a year.

Garret swallowed the lump he felt forming in his throat. "So you want your coroner's files on the Albanian case. Official files or unofficial?"

"Both…and my notes."

"I'll fax them to your office right away, Jor. How are things going?"

"Good. I'm working several cases with detectives Lenny Briscoe and Ray Curtis. They're nice guys…really professional. Lenny is a hoot. You two would get along great."

Garret smiled. She was trying…thank God she was trying to regain some ground and make new friends. That had to be a positive sign.

"And I'm working the DA on the Albanian thing a little. The DA is a guy named Jack McCoy. Ever heard of him?"

"No…should I?"

"Didn't know. You've been in this field longer than I have…just thought…"

"Is he as tough as Renee?"

"Tougher…but fair and good. I like him…he's an older guy, but seems to have his act together…fighting his own inner demons while pursing justice…"

"So you two have a lot in common…"

"I guess. Don't know him well enough to really definitively say."

_Well, at least she's talking about other men_, Garret thought. _That has to be a good sign_. "Okay, Jor. I'll get your files over to you asap."

"Good. Between my files and Woody's maybe I can be of some help."

"You've talked to Woody?"

"Just got off the phone with him."

Garret paused for a moment. "How…how'd that go?" He heard her sigh.

"It went okay…he's sending me his stuff, too. It was all pretty cut and dried."

"So it's really over?"

There was a long pause. "Yeah, Gar. It's really over."

He heard the slight catch in her voice…and knew the effort that last statement took. For her to admit to him…and herself…that she and Woody were through…took a monumental effort on the part of her emotions and her heart. "I'm sorry, Jordan. I know you loved him."

"Yeah. I guess in a way, I still do. Maybe I always will. You know what they say…the one real, true love of your life, you never really get over. You just learn to move on."

Garret sighed inwardly. _Damn the Wisconsin Farm Boy. Damn him, damn him, damn him._ "Keep moving, then," he replied, trying to bring a smile to his voice. "Your files are on the way."

"Thanks Garret. Talk to you soon."

"And Jordan?" he said before she hung up. "We miss you….and love you."

* * *

By late that morning, both Woody and Garret had faxed the needed information to her office. She had held hope that Woody would include a note to her…something personal that she could tuck away and look at when she was lonely.

No such luck. It only came with a Boston PD cover sheet. He didn't even sign it.

Gathering the file work together, she spread it out on her desk and took her lunch hour pouring back over the evidence. When she finally felt she was ready, she made copies…keeping one set for herself and putting the other copy in a file folder for Jack.

Calling him should not be such a big issue, but she found her heart beating just a little faster as she dialed the number. _This is stupid_, she thought, chalking it up to the fact that Mr. McCoy….Jack… could be just a little intimidating. Serena answered his office phone. "Jack's not in Jordan. Try his cell phone."

"He's not in court?"

"They've recessed for lunch until two."

The call to his cell yielded a gruff "Hello...McCoy speaking," in her ear. Jordan could hear the sound of people talking and drinks being ordered. He must be in a bar. "Got those files for you, Jack…the Albanian information."

Jack smiled. He had wondered how long it would take her to produce it. He got the distinct feeling Hoyt may have wanted to give her trouble. Evidently the lady could handle what was ever tossed her way. Her rumored reputation was proving true.

"Good…"

"Want me to go ahead and fax it over to your office?"

"No…tell you what…I'm in court all afternoon. You got dinner plans?"

Jordan's lungs seized. "No…" she stammered.

"Then meet me at Flannigan's for dinner. Bring the files. We'll go over them then. You play pool?"

Jordan smiled. She did, but it had been a long time. "A little," she admitted.

"Any good?"

"Used to be. My dad taught me."

"Then bring the files, an appetite, and your best game. See you at six, Cavanaugh."

* * *

Flannigan's was a noisy, Irish-type of pub not far from Jack's office. As a matter of fact, if it was picked up and moved to Massachusetts, a customer wouldn't have known the difference between that pub and the other dozen or so Irish pubs on any given block of downtown Boston.

So Jordan felt right at home as she entered the dimly-lighted, noisy establishment. She stood still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the bar before she began searching for Jack. "You made it," a deep voice said behind her. Turning around she found herself staring up into a pair of warm, brown eyes, lighting up just a little with suppressed laughter.

"Yeah…sorry I'm a little late…I had some trouble finding it…"

"Not been out much, eh?"

Jordan shook her head. "Not a whole lot, just work and my apartment."

Jack took her by the arm and led her over to a booth. "Let's order, then we'll deal with what's in yours and Hoyt's files." He motioned for the waitress.

Food and drink orders taken, Jordan handed the file to Jack. She sat in silence, nursing her Guinness as he flipped through the file. Hoyt's information about Jordan's involvement struck him particularly hard. She had been put in a position where she had been in real danger…and nearly killed. It wouldn't be like the Albanian mob to forget her involvement.

It wouldn't be like the Albanian mob to forget her face, either.

"Were you always so involved with the police cases in Boston?" he asked.

Jordan nodded. "Most of the time. The morgue and detectives work closer together there than they do here."

"Do you like it better that way?"

Jordan was quiet for a moment as she considered the question. The stress was definitely off her as she did her work as a ME in New York….but she missed her Boston morgue and the way things operated there. "Yeah," she finally said, somewhat subdued as the memories of home fanned through her mind. "I guess I do."

Jack smiled at her. From what he had heard of her reputation as a troublemaker that pursued justice without flinching, he had assumed as much. Still it was nice to hear it come from her. "No place like home, huh? Are you homesick?"

"A little…but Betty's keeping me busy."

Jack spread the papers out on the table and he and Jordan worked their way through them as they ate. He was particularly taken with her knowledge and insight…and her intuition. _She may look a little like Claire,_ he thought, _but Jordan's on an entirely different playing field._ When the last paper was looked over and he listened to her comments, he shoved everything back in the file folder and stuffed it in his brief case. "Now, I believe you owe me a game of pool," he said, standing and extending his hand….just like Woody used to do. Jordan swallowed hard.

"It's been awhile since I've played," she said as they walked over to the pool tables.

"I'll go easy on you," Jack said, loosening his tie.

Three games later, he was finished going easy on her. She beat him soundly every time. "Your dad taught you to play like that?" he asked.

"Um…yeah. See, after Dad retired from the police force, he bought a bar…."

"That had pool tables…."

"And I played nearly every night after work."

Jack grinned. "So your old man was a policeman. That explains it."

Jordan raised her eyebrows. "Explains what?"

"Your questioning everything…your intuition with cases….your desire to run in and solve the crime, get the bad guy, rescue the victims. Was he on the Boston force?"

Jordan felt her cheeks flush. "Yeah…"

"My old man was a cop, too. We get it honest….all the inquisitiveness, the desire for justice…the anger at injustice. Don't apologize. I understand. About that anyway. But about your pool game….I feel tricked. I figured I'd be teaching you to play. Instead, I owe you fifty bucks."

"I really haven't played in awhile…probably over a year…not since my dad left Boston."

"He retire to Florida?"

Jordan shook her head. She had really told Jack more than she wanted anyone in New York to know. But he had turned out surprisingly easy to talk to and as long as she was looking in his eyes, it was easy to forget to keep her distance from these people. "Not exactly … it's a long story."

Sensing her hesitation to tell it, he changed the subject as he put their pool cues back in the rack. "Do you dance, Cavanaugh?"

"A little."

"A little….like you play pool a little?" he teased.

Jordan felt herself blush again. What was it with this man and his ability to make her feel like a school girl? She fervently hoped the darkness of the bar hid the rosy hint in her cheeks. "Okay….more than a little," she admitted. "But I haven't done that in a long time, either." And she hadn't…not since she sold the Pogue….and not since before things between her and Woody went so horribly wrong.

"What? Do you do nothing but work in Boston? How about giving it a whirl?" Jack held his hand out.

"Sure," she stammered, letting him lead her out on the tiny dance floor after dropping a few coins in the jukebox. She assumed he would pick some sort of Frank Sinatra song…something New York-y. She was shocked when she heard the sweet refrains of Rascal Flatts' _Bless the Broken Road_ come out of the humming machine, as Jack pulled her close.

"Was it hard talking to Hoyt today?" he asked in her ear.

"Woody? No more difficult than usual."

"Does he always give you a hard time?"

"How do you know he gives me a hard time?" Jordan questioned back, trying to steer this man away from her personal life…despite the fact that for the first time since Woody had pushed her out of his life, she felt comfortable in another man's arms.

"Your expression when we were talking in my office yesterday. You really don't have a poker face, Cavanaugh. Is he a real bastard?"

_Oh boy…._ "Not…not really. It…I…We…just had some personal issues that needed to be put to rest, and I…it didn't go so well…"

"Ah."

"But he's a good detective…" she protested, somehow feeling slightly unfaithful to a man that now had no claim over her.

"I never said he wasn't…and I gather he is…from looking at the file you brought." Jack spun her out and pulled her back to him again. "And ….just in case you're wondering…you're not a whole lot like her."

"Her?"

"Claire. I know people have told you that there is a strong resemblance."

"Just a few…Curtis…Betty…Briscoe…"

Jack laughed. "Briscoe would be the first to notice. He and Claire were close in a father/daughter sort of way."

"But you and Claire were closer." It wasn't a question. She felt him sigh, pull away from her and stop dancing.

"We were. I loved her…Claire Kinkaid was one in a million. I was truly blessed to have her in my life. Most folks don't know this, but before she was killed, she was thinking about leaving the DA's office so we could settle down together. Most people just assumed that Claire was just another one of my 'flings'. By the time Claire came on as my assistant, I had had three other ones…and had affairs with each of them."

"So most people just assumed she was your flavor of the month?" Jordan said, smirking slightly.

"Yes. But she wasn't. Claire was beautiful…inside and out. And smart…Harvard grad…with honors. She was quiet…but had a bawdy sense of humor if you were lucky enough to get to know her. She was the one woman that I felt could really hold her own against me and not get hurt."

Jordan nodded. She knew how Jack felt. She had felt the same way about Woody. "I'm sorry that she didn't …" She began to pull out of Jack's arms. The music had long stopped and somehow she no longer felt it appropriate that they remain that close.

"Thanks." He took her arm and steered her back over to their booth. "Want another beer before we leave?"

"No…I think it's time I got back home."

"Let me walk you to your car…"

Jordan shook her head. "I don't have a car here…besides, my apartment is just a couple of blocks away…"

"Then I'll walk you there…can't have my new ME getting mugged or anything." He took her arm again and led her out the door. They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, each with their hands stuffed deep in their pockets and their minds lost in the thoughts of former lovers.

"So what about you, Jordan? You and Hoyt?"

"No. Not anymore."

"Ahh…tell me …what did the man do?"

Whether it was the beer, the cold, the dance, Jack's confession about Claire, or just the fact that she felt at ease with this man, for the first time she openly confessed what happened to someone other than Garret. "We had sort of been dancing around each other for several years. When I finally told him I did love him, he didn't believe me."

Jack stopped walking. It took Jordan a few seconds to realize he was no longer beside her. "That was cold," he said before catching up with her.

"I'm sure he has his reasons." They resumed walking together. There was silence again for a few minutes.

"So where'd you go to school?" he asked, regaining ground on neutral subjects.

"Tufts and UMass."

"Good schools. This your building?"

Jordan nodded. "Thanks for walking me home."

"You're welcome. I'll be talking with you tomorrow."

"Okay." She watched him turn and walk back down the sidewalk towards the bar. She bet he was going back in for another beer…that all the talk about Claire and his past would lay heavy on his mind for a while and another drink may at least make him feel light enough to go back home to his empty apartment.

She could hear the chorus of the Rascal Flatts' song echoing through her mind as she climbed the stairs to her own lonely rooms …

_That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you_…


	5. Mob Files and No Strings Attached

**Chapter Five**

**Mob Files and No Strings Attached**

Woody stared aimlessly out the window of his office, the Albanian mob file that Jordan had asked him to fax to her still laying in the middle of his desk. _Professional courtesy…I wonder just what she is up to in New York_…he mused. _And exactly why and how deeply is she involved with the Albanian mobs there?_

Futilely, he wished that she was back in Boston…that she had never left. Despite the fact that he had told Jordan it was over between them…despite the fact that he was dating Allison on a steady basis…despite the fact that Jordan had put several hundred miles between them…he still worried about her.

At first he chalked it up to habit. He had worried about her since the minute he had laid eyes on her at the bank heist years ago. Just because they were no longer pursuing a relationship, didn't mean he still wasn't concerned about what happened to her. And right now she was in New York and he had absolutely no control over her safety.

If he ever really did to begin with. As headstrong as Jordan was, he wasn't sure if he was ever remotely in control of anything they did. At least until the very end. Until he had rebuffed her. Then he realized just how much influence he did have over her. Her sagging shoulders and tears had told him just how much he had hurt her.

It hadn't mattered to him at the time. He had firmly believed he was better off without her. And at the time, his world was revolving around him and what he needed. Not her. Not anyone else, really. Just him, and at the time, his motionless legs.

He drummed his fingernails on the top of his desk. The Albanians were not a group anyone would want to piss off. And unfortunately, when Jordan had involved herself as a mediator between himself and Cal, she had unwittingly tipped her hand to the mob. They knew who she was. He hoped this McCoy guy read the file thoroughly. Out of habit, Woody flipped his cell phone open. He could call her and get the New York DA's number under the guise that there was some information he needed to verbally tell him. Then he could call McCoy and warn him to watch out for Jordan…keep her off the case and out of harm's way.

But was it his job to do that now? Did he have the right to act on a hunch?

Maybe he should take a trip to New York and check things out…make sure she's okay…

Unfortunately, their last words were still too fresh in his mind for him to secure a plane ticket with a clear conscious….

"_There's nothing keeping me in Boston, right?"_

"_No. There's not."_

If there was nothing left to keep her in Boston, there was even less propelling him to go to New York. He picked up the file, threw it in his bottom desk drawer, and slammed it shut.

* * *

The Albanian file from Boston sat on the corner of her desk…a thick reminder of her work back in Boston…a hint of the work she might have facing her in New York, and a mile marker in her life's journey. In a way, it had been that work that landed her here in the NYC morgue.

Thinking back, it had been during the beginning of that case that she and Woody had been the closest they had ever gotten in their relationship. Not even in LA, when he nearly kissed her again, were they that emotionally close.

Never had she been more ready to let him in…allow him to take her heart…and love her like he wanted to…like she needed him to.

But then, Woody's "inner loop" with the mob pulled the sucker punch that began her Farm Boy's downward spiral into self pity….the action that ultimately caused their budding romance to self destruct. Cal.

Cal was Woody's inside source on the Albanian mob. Not that Woody had asked him to do that and not that Cal volunteered to. The gambling debt that Cal owed one of the mob members put him in a situation where he had to become a police mole for them….via his Boston PD brother. When Woody had found out how Cal was playing him, he had reversed the roles and used the information Cal gave him to help convict the mob members.

But Woody had paid a high price for it…He and Cal were now estranged…and Jordan had tried to play mediator…showing up at the Albanian bar with Cal. That's why the mob knew her face…and once Woody and the other officers showed up at the bar, Albie and his group had quickly put the whole scenario together and threatened Jordan's life. Woody had shot the man, but now her face was known the mob. Not only who she was, but what she did for a living...and what those skills had done to put some of their Albanian family behind bars for a long time.

Woody had never gotten over Cal's deception. It had cut him to the emotional quick. So when she had hesitated about the friendship ring he had given her, he had pulled even more tightly in his emotional shell, declaring they would be better as friends after all. Then when he had been shot, and she had bared her soul to him, he pushed her away for good – when he had needed her the most….and when she had needed him even more.

He had given her no reason to turn down this rotation in New York.

And he would have been the only reason she would have stayed in Boston.

Resolutely, she grabbed the offending file off the corner of her desk, threw it into her briefcase, and slammed it shut.

* * *

Jack McCoy was still pouring over the file that Jordan had given him last night. If he had to give her and Hoyt anything, despite whatever personal differences they may have, they made a damn fine team. The information was detailed and as far as he could tell, incredibly accurate and intuitive.

And if completely accurate, it painted only a tiny corner of the picture that may be developing in New York City with the Albanians. Jordan had been right…they were cruel…ruthless…and would hesitate to do nothing in the name of family, honor, and duty.

The body in the morgue…the one that Betty had been sure was the victim of an Albanian hit….was indeed perhaps the first in a line of victims the DA's office could assume to process. He was going to have to hit this case fast and hard in order to hopefully stave off an incoming flood of possible other victims.

He had to put some fear in the hearts of these people

And Jack couldn't be totally sure, but he had a feeling the beautiful ME from Boston was going to play a key role in his efforts both in the courtroom and out of the courtroom. If he could get her paired with Briscoe and Curtis to work these cases, it would take a load off of his mind.

If he could talk her into a few more games of pool, dinner, and some more dancing, it would be even better.

He wasn't confused. Jack knew, that despite the strong resemblances, Jordan was not Claire. But that made him no less fascinated by the woman. That did nothing to diminish his desire for her. Slowly and thoughtfully he closed the file on his desk. Hoyt, he decided, was truly a fool to refuse this woman's love and affection. He wasn't sure why it happened, but right now Jack was glad it did. Jordan may have been hurt by this Boston detective, but Jack was determined to help her get over it.

As a matter of fact, it would be his pleasure to do so. He placed the file in the center of his desk so he wouldn't forget to call Jordan on a daily basis and pick her brain on the case….as if he needed any reminder.

* * *

Jordan began to work primarily with Briscoe and Curtis once Betty felt she was familiar enough with the NYC morgue and its procedures to be out on her on. Jordan welcomed the chance to get out of the office and back out in the field…even if the field wasn't the familiar streets of Boston.

She enjoyed working with Curtis, who by his own admission was a family man – happily married with three children. Briscoe was different. Jordan would like to say he was a substitute for Garret while she was in New York, but he really wasn't. The differences between the two men were glaring. And Garret, as far as Jordan knew, had never looked at her with a glint in his eye the way Lenie sometimes did. "If you were a few years older, or preferably, I was a few years younger, we'd have some good times, baby," he'd tease and wink at Jordan.

But Jack continued to be the most fascinating. Whether it was by his frank admission about Claire or the fact that his eyes seemed to be able to read her soul, she wasn't sure. She just knew that when she had a bad day, and Jack found out about it, all it took was one sympathetic look from his deep brown eyes and she instantly felt better.

As a matter of fact, it was becoming harder and harder to remember that a certain pair of blue eyes used to make her feel the same way. _Which is good_, Jordan reasoned, _since he doesn't want me around anymore…maybe Garret was right. Maybe this rotation was exactly what I needed to get over him…put Woody in my past and move on._ For the first time, she felt that it might be possible for her to have a future with someone other than the Wisconsin Farm Boy.

The only event marring her stay in New York was the continued worries about the Albanian mobs. There had been two more hits. Jack had read and re-read Jordan's and Woody's files. Briscoe and Curtis had talked with witnesses and informants. Jack feared that the three murders were just the tip of a Titanic-sized ice berg…that they were going to be hit with several more.

And his concern for Jordan's safety grew. She had tried to down play her role in the Boston case, but from what Jack could read between the lines in Woody's file, Jordan had been in more serious danger than she wanted to admit to herself or anyone else.

It also struck him odd that Woody had never called and inquired about the New York cases or Jordan. If the detective's feelings had been at one time been as strong as Jordan indicated, Jack found it strange that Woody hadn't been at the least bit concerned about her well-being…and if she was being watched.

He could come to only one conclusion. Whatever type of relationship Jordan had at one time with Woody was truly over.

Which was fine with him…that meant that Jordan had come to New York with no strings attached.


	6. Her Run of Luck

**Chapter Six**

**Her Run of Luck**

It was late…even for Jordan Cavanaugh and her workaholic personality.

She, Jack, Ray, and Lenny had spent most of the evening in the DA's office, putting together the third victim's case after Jordan had completed the autopsy. Betty had deferred any other possible mob-related death to Jordan, as the Boston ME had more than her fair share of experience in that field.

Call it fate, call it chance, call it her run of luck, but Jordan was once again up to her neck in another Albanian case. She was only praying that this one didn't involve Woody and Cal. For all her mixed emotions about Farm Boy, she had no desire to see the two brothers' relationship become any more stalemated and difficult than it already was.

So her thoughts were not in New York as she climbed the stairs to her tiny, studio apartment…they had drifted back to Boston, back to home….back to the people she cared about…even Woody, as strained as their relationship was. So deep in thought, that when she unlocked her apartment and flipped the light on, it took her a minute to register the mayhem…drawers dumped out…her closet turned inside out, her mattresses flipped …_Oh my God,_ she thought, her fingers curling around the cell phone in her pocket, _I've been robbed…_

A movement behind her snapped her head around. "Hey," she yelled to the figure behind her, "Stop…What are you doing…"

A hard blow to her head was the only reaction she got. Tiny, bright stars filled her vision as the room swam and began to grow dark. Her knees began to give…but she was conscious enough to realize that the robber had left and she was now alone. She shook her head, to push away haziness that threatened to take over her mind. Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she punched 911 and waited on the operator.

* * *

"You're sure Jordan's safe?" Jack asked Rae and Lennie as the men walked out of the DA's office.

"As best we can tell she's not in any danger right now. We're keeping a close eye on her. So far the Albanians haven't done anything to make us think they would go after her," replied Lenny as he held the door open for the other two men. "You two want to go grab a bite to eat before you head home?"

Ray shook his head. "I gotta get home. It's late already…"

"I'll go, Briscoe," Jack said, "I just know from what Hoyt had in his file, they were ready to grab Jordan when she was working the case back in Boston. Wait a minute…" his cell phone went off. "What? Is she okay? We'll be right there. You tell the uniforms not to do anything until Curtis and Briscoe get there, is that clear?"

"What was that about?" Lennie asked.

"It was Officer Dempsey. They got a 911 call from Jordan's apartment. It was broken into…she was hit on the head. I thought you said she wasn't in any danger."

"Is she okay?"

"They think so. She's been checked out by the EMT at the scene, but has refused to go to the hospital."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Lenny asked as they got in their cars to go to Jordan's apartment, arriving a few minutes later to a room swarming with cops. Jordan was sitting on the couch, an icepack held to her head. "Ah, sweetheart, I love what you've done with the place," Lenny teased her.

Jordan tried to smirk back at him, but failed. Her head was hurting too badly. "Yeah, I call it modern burglary. Think it'll catch on?"

Jack knelt in front of her. "Are you okay?" He pushed a curl behind her ear. "Don't you need to go to the hospital for an x-ray or something?"

Jordan gingerly shook her head. "I'm fine…just a headache."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm a doctor, Jack."

Jack stood and conferred with Lennie and Rae for a minute. "Jordan…does it look like anything has been taken?" Lennie asked.

"Not that I can tell. I didn't bring anything of real value with me. The most expensive thing I have in here is my CD player and collection and that wasn't touched. My lap top wasn't taken, either."

Jack gave Lennie a knowing look. Lennie nodded at Rae, who in turn asked Jordan, "Where's your work briefcase, Jordan?"

"My briefcase? I left it locked up in my office. Why?"

Sitting beside her, Lennie took her hand. "Look, Jordan, honey, we don't think this was a random robbery. We think maybe the Albanians were after any information you may have on them, either from here or from Boston."

Jordan tried to shake her head again, wincing at the effort. "But I don't really have that much…"

"Except a history with them," Jack said. "Woody warned you to be careful…."

"Woody is always telling me to be careful," she replied getting up off her couch.

"And maybe you should listen to him occasionally?" Lennie said, grinning at her. He didn't know the whole story between Jordan and Woody, but he knew more than the other two men. Jordan frowned at the detective, then turned her attention to the uniformed officers who were putting up the yellow "Caution: Crime Scene" tape up around her door.

"Oh, damn," she muttered. "Great. I get hit on the head and I can't stay home tonight, either."

"I'd invite you home with me, but all I have a loveseat and a one bedroom apartment. Neither one of us would be very comfortable with that arrangement," Lennie told her.

"Can I get my things?" she asked. Lennie nodded. "I can sleep at the morgue….I used to do that in Boston a lot when I worked late." She began to get her make up, toothbrush, and clothes out of the bedroom, not noticing that Jack had followed her behind her.

"Jordan."

She turned. "Yeah?"

"You can stay with me. I mean, I have a penthouse…two bedrooms. You'd have your own bathroom. It's late already…it would be easier than a hotel and it won't be but for a couple of nights. Plus, you'd be safe."

Safe…that sounded so nice. To be honest, she was dreading being alone after the break-in. The one she had experienced in Boston had rattled her. Being in a strange town without knowing many people…this one had rattled her even more. Especially after what Lennie had said about the possible Albanian connection. She would be safer at Jack's than being at hotel registered under an assumed name.

And she needed to feel safe. The last time she had really felt safe was in Woody's arms…after her first Albanian case.

"Thanks," she finally said, putting her things in a duffle bag. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble and you're sure you don't mind?"

"Bring enough clothes for a couple of days. I want this crime scene thoroughly processed…"

* * *

He got her back to his penthouse, a few blocks away from their offices. Neither one of them had said much on the way to his apartment, Jordan still holding the ice pack to her head. "Do you need to go to the hospital…Are you going to be okay?" Jack asked sounding slightly worried.

"Me? Sure…." Jack's concern for her had surprised Jordan. She hadn't had anyone care this much about her in a long time. "Just tell me where the Tylenol and the bed are and I'll be fine." He helped her upstairs and led her to her bedroom.

"If there's anything you need, let me know. There are fresh towels in the bathroom, clean sheets on the bed…"

"Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate it."

Jack grinned and gently pushed her hair off her shoulders. "Just call me if you need me, okay?" He ran a finger down her cheek. "Good night."

"Night." She smiled up at him and saw an answering twinkle in his eyes before he left her alone to undress and get in the bed. Jack walked back into his own room and got ready for bed, showering, and then towel drying his hair. The last woman that he had in his penthouse overnight had been Claire. And she had never used the guest room. Listening carefully after getting out of his bathroom, he heard nothing but silence. Jordan must have fallen asleep by now.

Telling himself, nearly convincingly, that his concern was for her head injury, he padded across the hall and quietly pushed her bedroom door open. She was curled up on her side, away from the door, hugging her pillow, sound asleep. All Jack saw was the soft curve of her body and a tangled mass of chestnut curls. He leaned against the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight.

No, she wasn't Claire. Claire was gone. He missed her. He had grieved for her. A part of him always would.

The woman in his guest bed was Jordan Cavanaugh, a fascinating mixture of intelligence, issues, and …vulnerability. She may not admit it, but she was. Vulnerable. That's what made her so irritating sometimes. She didn't want to admit she needed anyone. And while Jack wasn't so ego-driven that he would say he was who she needed, he did want to accept her just the way she was.

That's what made Jordan, Jordan.

And he didn't want anything less.

* * *

"Hey guys," Woody said, coming into the break room at the morgue. "Got any coffee?" He reached for a cup and the pot.

"If you want to live dangerously, yeah, there's some left in the bottom," Lily said over the rim of her Starbucks take-out cup.

"So how'd you rate Starbucks?" Woody asked, grinning at the grief counselor. "Wake up early enough to make a trip through the drive-through?"

"Nope. Matthew brought it to me," she said, returning his grin.

"Detective Seely….ah…I heard you two were becoming an item…"

"I hope so."

"Lily, you don't mean it."

"I do. I really like him, Woody."

Woody took in her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Yep…she had it bad. "Are you two…" he asked, his voice trailing off.

"Not yet. But it could happen anytime."

Woody smiled at her. "That's great. You seem to bring out his best side."

"He's really a great guy…a little rough around the edges, but his heart's in the right place. And as long as his heart's good, then everything else will work out. So how's Allison?"

Woody tried not to look guilty. After he had pushed Jordan out of his life…he hadn't realized how he had broken her heart…not until much later…after she left to go to New York. Lily had told him, because at the time she was the only one in the morgue that would speak to him. She also had told him that the primary reason Jordan had taken the rotation was to get over him and get on with her life.

Somehow that information had made Allison less appealing. He honestly didn't think he had started dating her to "get back" at Jordan or make her jealous. That would have been using Allison and Woody didn't use people like that. But as time wore on, he began to use work more and more as an excuse to spend less and less time with Allison. Now they were barely seeing each other at all.

And Woody had thought about calling Jordan several times…to check up on her…especially after he had faxed the DA all of his files. But he had lacked the courage to follow through. It wasn't because he didn't think Jordan wouldn't talk to him…no.

He had been afraid of what she might say. _I'm over you…I've moved on…_

"Woody?" Lily asked. "Did you hear me? How's Allison?"

"Oh, sorry…Allison. She's good."

"Are you bringing her to the Policeman's Ball this year?"

_Shit…I forgot all about that…. _"Ah…I don't know if she has to work that night or not…Do you know if Jordan might be coming back for that?" he hedged. The Policman's Ball was really a misnomer. It was a function for the Boston PD and all its associates, including the morgue workers.

"Jordan? No…I talked with her last night. She's really involved with that Albanian case there…she's working all the time, as usual. She mainly helps two detectives…a Lenny Briscoe and a Ray Curtis. Ray's a little older, married…Lenny's a lot older, but as Jordan said, a 'real character'."

Woody felt his lungs begin to function again. The last thing he wanted to hear was that Jordan had been paired with some hot and hunky New York detective.

"But I guess I can tell you the best part now…seeing that you two have broken up and you're dating Allison…"

Woody felt his lungs tighten up again. "What is it?" he asked faintly, gripping the break room counter with one hand.

"The DA there…he's older than Jordan…maybe Garret's age…Jordan said they were working closely on the Albanian thing together. She told me he was really nice looking…tall, salt and pepper hair, gorgeous brown eyes…"

_Well, as long as she just thinks he's good looking…_ Woody thought. _There's no harm in that_…

"Anyway, she's moved into his apartment. They're living together."

The floor could have opened up and swallowed him and he would have been less surprised.

"Liv….living together?" he asked faintly.

"Yeah. Said he's a real sweetheart…really protective…accepts her the way she is …doesn't want her to change a thing…Damn, I wish I could remember his name…I have a feeling we're all going to have to learn it…"

The fog left Woody's head. "Jack McCoy. The DA's name is Jack McCoy."

"That's it…how'd you know?"

"Jordan told me."

"Wow…Jordan called you to tell you she was living with someone? You two really have worked through your issues."

Woody shook his head. "No…she told me when she asked me to fax my information to her on the Albanian mob here in Boston."

"Oh." Lily watched as Woody swallowed the rest of his coffee, his face nearly as white as the Styrofoam cup he shot toward the trashcan when he was through. He mumbled good bye to her on his way out the door.

His cup missed the trashcan, his hand was shaking so hard.

Lily picked the cup up off the floor and smiled at the retreating figure. Shaking and pale. Just the affect she was going for.


	7. What Did I Do?

**Chapter Seven**

**What Did I Just Do?**

_She's freakin' living with a man when I couldn't get a kiss out of her?_ Woody thought to himself as he found himself back in his office and couldn't remember how he got there. He slammed the door and slammed himself into his chair.

Jordan was living with a man. Another man. Not him.

His Jordan was living with another man.

_His._ The possessive pronoun hung in his throat and goaded his heart. _His._ It mocked him.

_His Jordan._ Not any longer…if she ever was. She had wanted to be….

And then he screwed up and pushed her away. What had he done?

And now she was living with the district attorney of New York City.

There was no way he could top that.

He had two questions right now….when did this happen and what did Jack McCoy have that he didn't?

The answer to the second question hit him glaringly in the face: Jordan. Jack had Jordan. _His_ Jordan.

In a way Woody never had…maybe never would.

He reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the Albanian mob file and flipped through it. Maybe it was time for a road trip to New York to make sure Jordan was okay. For professional reasons only, of course. She was an employee of the state of Massachusetts….he was responsible for her well-being.

He was only interested in he professionally…as one professional to another. And if could convince his heart of this, he'd be doing a great job.

But the most chilling thought he kept pushing from his mind. What was he going to do if Jordan didn't want to come back to Boston? What was he going to do if she had truly moved on in her life and no longer loved him?

He buried his face in his hands and then ran them down his face. He had absolutely no clue what he would do if there was no longer room in her life for him.

But he couldn't blame her…not in any way…she had done what he asked her to do. Leave him alone, get out of his life, and move on with hers. How could he tell her he was wrong?

And would he tell her if he went to New York and found that Jordan was really happy with this Jack McCoy?

Woody swallowed hard. He'd turn around and go back to Boston without letting her know his true feelings.

If Jordan was really happy…truly content…he wouldn't say a word.

* * *

"Are you sure this is safe?" Jordan asked Jack.

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't ride it to work everyday," Jack replied, his eyes twinkling at Jordan as she cautiously surveyed his motorcycle. He had spent three days trying to convince her to go for a long ride with him.

She had spent three days telling him every gory detail of all the autopsies she had done on motorcycle wreck victims.

He had countered with an ultra-safe helmet.

She had countered with another gory story. She finally caved when she saw the disappointed gleam in his eyes. "Don't give me that puppy dog look," she warned. "It doesn't work."

"It doesn't?" he had asked as she put on the helmet and climbed on the back.

"Not often."

"As long as it works this time. Now wrap your arms around my waist, lean in, and hang on." Jack grinned back at her.

Jordan hid a self-satisfied smile. She had planned to go with him from the beginning. She secretly like motorcycles…she had ridden with Nigel often enough to develop a liking for the speed, wind, and motion. It was just nice to hear someone really beg her to do something with them because he wanted her company…that's it. Just her company….nothing else from her. Not to help on a case, not to cover a shift, not to probe a possible lead, or to contact an inside source.

Jack just wanted to be with her. The bike was an added bonus. Seeing the man's rear in a pair of slightly tight jean added even more incentive to climb behind him and wrap her arms around him. She usually only saw him in suits.

They rode for over an hour, finally stopping to have lunch at a little diner outside of the city. "So, Jack…is this what you do for fun every weekend?"

"The ones I can get away on, I do. I can't hear my cell phone…there's no traffic…it's a release, you know. So what about you, Cavanaugh? What did you do for fun in Boston?"

Jordan put down her hamburger and thought for a minute. To be truthful, she wasn't really sure anymore. For a long time she would work at the morgue and then help her father at the Pogue. When she closed up, Woody would always be there to help her and they would dance afterwards…sometimes for a couple of hours…content to be in each other's arms…talking about anything and everything.

But that was so long ago that her heart had even stopped lurching at the memory of the feel of his hands around her waist and on her back. She had sold the Pogue…and Woody had pushed her out of his life.

"Jordan?"

"Sorry…I had to really think. I don't believe I've done anything but work for a long time…"

"That's sad…all work and no play?"

"Pretty much." She swallowed the last of her drink.

"Ever seen much of New York out of the city limits?"

Jordan shook her head.

"C'mon." He got her back on his bike and rode her through the country side, finally stopping at one of the scenic overlooks. "This…is why I ride on the weekends," he said.

"It's beautiful…"

"And hard to believe that such places exist outside all the concrete and steel that we see everyday."

Jordan nodded.

"I bet Boston has a lot of areas like this?" It was a question.

"You've never been to Boston, Jack?"

"Never had a reason to go."

"It's a great city…"

"So is New York…you'll have to do better than that, Cavanaugh."

"Maybe you should come to visit me after I go back."

"I will…if you give me a better reason than that." Jack gently looped his arms around Jordan's waist. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the ME off, but he had wanted this for a long time – nearly ever since he had first met her. Slowly he lowered his head to hers, giving her ample time to draw back if she felt she needed to. Lightly he brushed her lips with his.

Hers clung.

Cautiously he deepened the kiss and felt her respond again, opening her mouth. He gently threaded one hand through her long hair and rubbed his tongue against hers.

Jack felt her move closer. He held her for long minutes until finally, reluctantly he began to break the kiss. "We'd better get back…" he whispered against her lips.

"Hmmm," she murmured back, slowly letting him go, blinking her way back into reality…back into the present. Her chest tightened. _Oh Jesus, what have I just done?_ she asked herself. _I came on this rotation to get over Woody…not get involved with another man…_Jack smiled at her. Jordan felt her knees give just a little._ Shit…now what am I supposed to do? _

_I just French kissed the DA of New York City. _

_And I enjoyed it…_

That was the startling part for Jordan. She enjoyed another man's kiss. After Woody, she never thought she would…honestly, she never thought she'd have the opportunity. If Woody didn't want her, she had reasoned no man would…she was too slow to warm up to another person emotionally, she didn't trust anyone easily…she pushed away when she should have pulled people to her.

But here was Jack McCoy…a man who wanted her…just her. He didn't care about her past, didn't mind her issues, wasn't asking her to change. Just be with him.

There was a lot to be said for that. Even if he didn't have crystalline blue eyes.


	8. History

**Chapter Eight**

**History**

_I kissed another man…._

The thought keep circling around Jordan's head that night as she lay in bed reflecting on what had happened. One part of her felt liberated…Woody had pushed her away…told her that he didn't want her. That it was time to move on with their lives…and he was dating Allison. She had floundered with her life but now may have found a surer footing than with a Farm Boy with blue eyes. And that footing was with a tall, dark, handsome DA with whiskey-colored eyes.

But the other part of Jordan felt like she was being unfaithful to a man -- that while he professed he had no hold on her, nor wanted to -- her heart was telling her another story. Woody may not believe it, but her heart…or at least part of it, still belonged to him. Maybe what she told Garret had been right… _You know what they say…the one real, true love of your life, you never really get over. You just learn to move on._

If Woody was the one real, true love of her life…she would never really get over him. She could see him twenty-five year from now, and her emotions would be the same. Her knees would buckle slightly, her heart would race, and her body would hunger for his touch. That wouldn't change.

Jordan rolled over from her back to her stomach, hugging the pillow in Jack's guest room. She had a choice. She could either remain locked in her past with Woody, longing for something she would never have from him…his love. Or she could move on. Embrace a new relationship with a new man…a man that was older, more stable, and wanted her … _just _her. He didn't have problems with her issues, he didn't want her to change. He was happy with her the way she was.

It seemed like an easy choice. Begin a relationship with a man that was available and willing….or wait on a man that would never be happy with her no matter how hard she tried, and had no plans to return her feelings again.

But no one ever said the issues of the heart were easy or made perfect sense. Either way, she risked getting her heart broken.

Was Jack worth the risk? He seemed to be….and his kiss this afternoon, and then another later this evening told her that he was wanting more from her…not just sexually, but in all the other ways, too. Emotionally….mentally…he wanted to get to know her in everyway. Was she willing to make this leap?

Facing what could be years of being alone…chasing the ghosts of her failed relationship with her one, true love, the decision was obvious.

Jack.

* * *

The days clicked by after her apartment was broken into, and Jordan never did move back into her apartment. Jack said it wasn't safe, the Albanians knew where she lived. Until he could make sure the area was secure, she was staying with him.

Jordan didn't argue. She was tired of being alone…and for the first time in her life, was ready to commit to a relationship. She was ready to move on. And Jack was letting her…at her own pace.

Whether he sensed it, or Briscoe had told him a little more about Woody, it seemed to Jordan that Jack instinctively knew that there were still issues with Woody that Jordan was working through in her heart. And she blessed him daily for giving her time. No one…not Briscoe, not Serena, not Adam Schiff…would believe that Jack McCoy had the patience of a saint living under his gruff exterior. But when he held her…kissed her…that exterior dropped and Jordan found herself in the arms of man that cared about her…for who she was, not what she could do and what she needed to change.

Comfortable. What she had with Jack was comfortable. Not that she didn't enjoy it…not that she didn't care…but she didn't feel the passion she had with Woody…that sexual tension that seemed to vibrate between the two of them didn't exist with her and Jack. But what they had was good…and loving…and Jordan relished the fact that she was, like Woody, moving on with her life.

She still slept in his guest room, but knew the night was coming when she wouldn't. She'd sleep in Jack's bed…with him…and propel their relationship to the next level. She believed she was ready, but Jack wasn't so sure she was. One day, after kissing her passionately after they both got home from work, he had lowered his forehead to hers and said, "I can't wait much longer, Jordan."

"Who said you had to wait?" She loosened his tie and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt.

He stilled her hands, covering hers with his own. "I do, Jo. I do. When I take you to bed, I want it to be just you and me…"

Jordan raised her eyebrows. "And you were expecting a threesome?"

Jack chuckled. "No…not coming from you…no. I want it to be just you and me and I don't want the ghost of Woody Hoyt anywhere around."

His comment had shocked her and she imagined he could read it on her face. "But…he…I…it's over."

"It may be over here," he said, tapping the middle of her forehead with his finger, "but it's not over here." He moved his finger to the center of her chest, over her heart. "And until this part of your body knows that, I have got to keep my hands off the rest of your body. Or we'll both regret it."

"But Jack…."

"Look, sweetheart…you know it and I know it, too. Sometimes when we kiss, I feel that you aren't all there…that your mind is somewhere in Boston…somewhere with him…wondering what he's doing…where he's at…or if what we could have together will hold a candle to what you and he could have had together if he hadn't been such an idiot." He have her a lopsided grin.

"Jack…he's moved on…and I have to, too."

"But the fact remains, Jordan, do you want to?"

"Yes."

Jack nodded. "You're really sure?"

"Yes…of course…Woody's out of my life…"

"Okay…I'll take your word for it…" He lowered his lips to hers again, kissing her deeply and molding her body to his. Her fingers found their way back to the buttons of his shirt.

_He's in my past…this is what matters now…Jack is what matters…_Jordan kept thinking as she began to feel her body respond to his caresses, feeling him pull her shirt from the waistband of her jeans and run his hands up along her ribcage to the sensitive area under her breasts. _He's in the past…my past. _She quit thinking then and was only aware of how Jack was making her feel…the familiar tingles of anticipation that would result sometime that night in the ultimate satisfaction…

_Woody Hoyt is history…_

They both were jerked back to reality when the doorbell rang. Giving Jordan a rueful look, Jack said, "I swear I wasn't expecting company…"

"Neither was I…"

"Can you get that while I…." he motioned to the front of his shirt which now needed to be completely re-buttoned.

"Sure," she said, tucking her own shirt in as the doorbell rang again. "Coming, coming….hold your horses…" She swung the door open with a pop and caught her breath.

History was staring her in the face.

Woody was in New York.


	9. She'll Never Know

**Chapter Nine**

**She'll Never Know How Much I Love Her**

"Woody…" Later, Jordan would be proud of the way her voice didn't waver and rose above a timid whisper to tone of voice that registered somewhere between disbelief and disapproval.

The single word registered with Jack, too, as he saw a tall, blue-eyed man at his front door. _So this is the other man_, he thought, watching Jordan's reaction closely. Her face showed no emotion. Maybe Jordan had more of a poker player in her than he gave her credit for. Far be it from him to hinder her in anyway…he'd help her play this guy…he joined her at the front door, his shirt only partially buttoned. "Detective Hoyt?" he asked, extending his hand. "You'll have to excuse me…_we_ weren't expecting company." Jack put a subtle emphasis on the _we _as he looked at Jordan. He finished buttoning his shirt and dropped his arm around Jordan's waist. "Won't you come in?"

"Yes," Jordan replied, somewhat stilted, pushing the door open a bit wider. "Come in…please, sit down, Woody."

Looking uncomfortable and feeling worse, Woody sat down in a chair in the living room, his emotions mixing between wondering if he interrupted something between the DA and Jordan and relief if he possibly did.

"What brings you to New York?" Jack asked, sitting on the couch in front of Woody and pulling Jordan down to sit beside him.

"I…we…heard that Jordan's apartment was broken into…and that it had an Albanian connection. Dr. Macy…and some of us were worried about her. I had a few days off coming to me, so I thought I'd make a road trip to see if she was safe…and to go over a few more things with you that our investigations have turned up about the mob."

"That was good of you," Jack said, taking Jordan's hand in his. "It's nice to know that she has people back in Boston that care that much. Briscoe, Curtis, and I were worried over her, too. Especially after what I read in your initial file….Would you like some coffee, Detective?"

"I'll go make some," Jordan said suddenly, uttering her first words since greeting Woody at the door. She pulled her hand from Jack's and gave him a small, tight smile.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Jack replied.

Jordan nearly ran to the kitchen, taking her time, putting on a pot of strong coffee and letting it brew. She had worked with men too long not to recognize the signs of two possessive, alpha males circling each other.

And Jack's overprotective attitude she could understand. They had just about made love this evening…they were heading towards the bedroom and Jordan didn't have any regrets…or many second thoughts, assuming that this was not only the next step in their relationship, but also the next step in her getting on with her life without Woody.

Then guess who shows up on her doorstep with no real reason? Farm Boy. As far as her safety was concerned, he could have called. As far as additional information on the Albanians, he could have faxed or e-mailed.

So exactly why was he here?

Sighing, she got down the creamer, sugar, and cups and stacked them on a tray. She added the coffee pot and carried them into the living room. Whatever happened, she had a feeling it was going to be a long night…and most of it wouldn't be spent in Jack's bed.

* * *

Woody left about two hours later, after talking at length with Jack about the Albanian mob and their crime history – past and present – in Boston. He described, in detail, his logical reasoning of how they migrated to New York and why. And while Jordan was somewhat proud of his deductions, she said nothing, sitting back on the couch, Jack's arm draped over the back around her shoulders, calmly sipping coffee as if it were an everyday occurrence for her future lover to be in the same room as the man she once would have sworn _would have been_ her future lover.

When Woody finally rose to leave, Jack stood and shook his hand. "You've got some good theories there, Hoyt. I'd like it if you could come by my office before you leave to go back to Boston tomorrow and talk to detectives Briscoe and Curtis."

"Sure. That will be no problem, seeing as I'm going to be in New York until the end of the week," Woody replied, trying to catch Jordan's eye.

Jordan quickly swallowed the coffee that was in her mouth before she spewed it on Jack's white living room rug.

"End of the week? Good. We'll have lots of time to talk…and I'm sure you and Jordan will want to catch up," Jack replied. Jordan sat her cup down on the coffee table before she dropped it.

"Yes. I'd like that," Woody said, addressing his last comment to Jordan, whose eyes had widened, both in surprise and anger. How dare both of these men make plans for her…as if she wasn't even in the same room?

"Jordan?" Jack gently prompted.

"Who? Me? Oh, sure….sure Woody. Just give me a call." She began putting the cups and things back on the tray and took it back to the kitchen. Jack followed her in a few minutes later, after having shown Woody the door and told him good night.

"That wasn't fair," she told Jack in a low voice, trying to control her anger.

"What's fair about your old boyfriend showing up at our door five minutes before I was ready to take you to bed?"

"You think I called him? You…think…I called him, don't you?"

Jack shook his head and gently took her hands. "No, Jo. I don't. I don't think you called Woody. All I've heard from you is that you were over him and were ready to move on with your life. But I do believe that things happen for a reason…so whether it was karma, fate, the powers that be….whatever you believe in….There was a reason that Woody showed up here."

"And what would that reason be?"

Jack pulled her to him and gently hugged her. "To make you think. To give you everything you need – time, any questions you want answered from Woody, material you need to dissolve any possible doubt you may have – that this….between us…is what you really want…and need. So that there's no second thoughts about us. Sometimes…when you're away from what is really bothering you, it's easy to make what you think are right decisions without really dealing with your issues. When I take you to bed….if I take you to bed and make love to you…I want you to be absolutely sure that is what you want…that I'm not just a tool to help you exorcise Woody Hoyt out of your life."

Jordan sighed and hugged him back. "I guess that this means…that it's not going to happen tonight?"

Jack couldn't tell if she was disappointed or relieved. "No…not tonight. Why?"

"I'm tired of being by myself, Jack. I just…I don't know…"

He caught the edge of frustration in her voice. "You want to sleep with me tonight? And I mean, just sleep, Jordan."

Thinking quickly, Jordan slowly nodded against his chest. The night was going to be a long one, anyway. Spending it alone would make it seem even longer.

"Okay…come on," he whispered taking her hand and tugging her towards his bedroom, stopping by her room long enough to swipe her girl boxers and tank top from the top of her bed. "The sooner we get to bed, the sooner we both get some rest. And I have a feeling you're going to need it more than I will."

* * *

He could have taken a cab from Jack's penthouse to his hotel, but Woody felt the need to work off some stress. A long walk was just what he needed…even if it was on the late night streets of New York. Jamming his hands deep in his pants pockets, he began the long trek back to his room.

Jordan was with Jack. He'd bet any money he interrupted an intimate romantic interlude between the two.

Jordan. Jack. Together. Intimately.

Something Woody had never been.

Something he had always wanted, though. Despite the fact that he had shut her down and shut her out, deep in her heart he always knew Jordan was _the_ one. Despite her issues, despite _everything_…Jordan was the love of his life.

Only now, she was the love of someone else's life. He saw the way Jack looked at her. He saw the way the DA acted around her…arm around the waist, around the shoulders, calling her sweetheart…

Well, despite the fact that he did have information on the Albanian mob that Jack and the New York detectives needed to know, Woody had found out everything he sat out to discover on this out-of-state field trip.

Jordan was happy. She was content. She was with a man that she obviously had great affection for. Remembering his promise to himself, Woody vowed he would do nothing to upset Jordan's new found happiness and contentment.

He'd leave New York without saying a word to her about what he was feeling.

Jordan would never know how much he loved her.


	10. A Reason to Return to Boston

**Chapter Ten**

**A Reason to Return to Boston**

By nine the next morning, Woody was at Jack's office discussing the Albanian mob with Briscoe and Curtis.

By eleven, he was hunting down Jordan. Despite what he had promised himself about not saying anything to her, his heart wasn't going to let him leave New York without giving their relationship one more shot…even if the bullet ended up in his ass.

She wasn't answering her Boston cell phone. Woody reasoned that there was no need for her to do that in New York. She probably kept it turned off. He went to the NYC morgue, but Betty said she had called in sick…and asked for a day off. Since it was the first sick day Jordan had taken, Betty had given it to her.

Out of desperation and with no other place to look, Woody found himself back at Jack's penthouse…and this time he prayed the DA was at the office and not playing house with Jordan. With his gut in a knot and his courage quickly slipping, he knocked on the door.

She answered it a few minutes later. Same tone of voice she used last night. "Woody…"

"Can we talk? Is now a good time?" he asked, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

"What else is there to say?" Jordan replied, but pushed the door open wider anyway. "Come on in."

"Nice place." Woody took in the white carpeting, black couch, and fire place. Jack's penthouse made his $700 a month apartment look like a broom closet.

"Very. I'm afraid Jack's spoiling me." She sank down on the couch and motioned him to sit in the chair across from her.

Not sure how to broach the subject, but needing to know more than he needed his next breath, he asked, "So how did…" the words stuck in his throat.

"How did Jack and I get together? I'm not sure that's any of your business, Woody."

Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. I know, it's just…"

"Just what?"

"It seems awfully sudden …"

Jordan stood and walked over to one of the windows, staring out across the way into Central Park. "What should that matter to you? You told me we were through…whatever it was we had…even after I put my feelings on the table for you. I admit, as usual, my timing was lousy, but that is what I felt. You made the decision to push me away and move on with your life. And encouraged me to move on with mine. I have."

"But…he's older than you, Jo. A lot older."

"So?"

"I mean, I just can't picture…"

"Then don't. Let's just say we have a lot of mutual interests and a similar background. Jack's had to deal with his own personal demons while finding justice, the same way I have. And his dad was a cop."

"That's all you're basing your relationship on?"

"No…Jack and I are more alike than different. And he's stable. I know he cares about me and isn't likely to change his mind on a whim." She turned back to stare him down. "So have I answered your questions, Woody?"

"Do you love him?" Woody asked quietly.

"I care for him…immensely. He's a good man. I'm not really sure love exists anymore except in fairy tales, Woody. Maybe we're all chasing this dream…a fog…a mist that will truly burn away with morning's light. Maybe…we just need to find someone we can care about and that cares about us….if not forever, at least for a little while. Maybe that's what it's all about."

"Do you honestly believe that?" He rose from his chair and walked over to where she was standing. "Do you?" he asked, tilting her chin so she would look him in the eyes.

Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the way his eyes still made her knees buckle, she replied, "I do."

He let go of her so suddenly she nearly fell. "Then that's all there is to it…nothing else between you and me." His voice was flat.

"No….Like you said, I have no reason to be in Boston any longer."

His face blanched. If he could get her back to Boston, he would be on his turf…and she would be away from Jack….Woody assumed it might be easier to woo her again once she was back home. "Then you're not coming back to Boston?"

Jordan shook her head. "No, I'll have to return after my rotation. That's the way the contract agreement reads."

"But will you stay there?"

"I don't know. It depends on if there's anything here for me …in New York…that will make me want to come back."

"Would Jack be enough?"

"Possibly."

"But what if…"

Whatever Woody was going to say was cut off by the sound of keys in the door. "Jordan… are you okay? Betty said you called in sick?" Jack had come home for lunch.

"In here, Jack," Jordan replied, her eyes still on Woody.

"Oh. There you…Woody. Nice to see you again. I just came home for lunch." Jack walked over to Jordan, dropped one arm around her waist and lightly kissed her lips. Jordan experienced the pulled sensation of being the wishbone of two alpha males. "Can we get you a sandwich or something?"

Woody felt the room grow warmer and had a sudden desire to jerk Jordan out of Jack's arms and tell the DA just exactly who she belonged to…or used to, anyway. At least he thought she did…and always would on some level.

Obviously not any more.

He needed to get out of that penthouse before he lost his temper and ruined any remote chance he had with her. "No…I'm just leaving."

"But we'll see you again….you'll be here until the end of the week, right?"

"No, actually, I think I'm going back home tonight."

The shrill ring of Jack's apartment phone broke the tension. Jordan made her way into the kitchen to answer it. With her out of ear shot, Jack crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "Did you get the answers you came for, Detective?" Jack motioned with his head toward the kitchen, indicating Jordan.

Woody nodded. "I did."

Jack smiled. A mirthless, I-won-the-girl-sorry-sucker-you-lost smile." But they weren't to your liking."

"Not really."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. But it's not over."

"Really?"

"She has to return to Boston in three months."

"And you honestly think she'll stay there?"

"She might if I give her a reason to."

The men were standing nearly toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose when a pale Jordan re-entered the room. "That was Lily…"

Instantly concerned, Woody asked, "What's wrong, Jordan?"

"I have to go back to Boston. Now. Garret's just had a heart attack. And he's asking for me."


	11. Is There Any of Me Left in Your Heart?

**Chapter Eleven**

**Is There Any of Me Left in Your Heart?**

"I told you the road would lead back to Boston," Garret quipped weakly from his hospital bed at Boston General.

"Yeah, but you never told me you'd be directing traffic _this_ way," Jordan softly joked back at her mentor and friend. As soon as Jordan had revealed to Jack and Woody what had happened, Woody had been on the phone with the airline, booking Jordan a seat next to his on the airplane. She had run frantically to her room to pack, and Jack had unsuccessfully tried to reschedule his court cases for the rest of the week. Once he had found out that a new schedule wouldn't work, he did promise to fly into Boston as soon as he could.

A few hours later, Jordan found herself boarding the place with a smug-looking Woody, who led her up the concourse with his hand on the small of her back…but not before she had given Jack a lingering good-bye kiss. Jordan could have sworn she saw Woody turn and flip Jack the bird before they got on the plane. She shook her head at her over active imagination.

"So how was New York?" Garret asked. He looked tired and pale, despite the fact that the doctors had said this wasn't a serious heart attack….more like a warning of what could happen to the man if some of the stress surrounding his job didn't ease up.

"It was good. You were right. I learned a lot."

"And met some interesting people?"

"Yeah." Jordan told him about Curtis and Briscoe…Betty and the rest of her morgue staff.

"What about this Jack that Lily was all a-twitter about? She said you were _living_ with him…"

Jordan had the grace to blush for a moment. "Yes," she replied softly. "After my apartment was broken into, Jack was worried about me being by myself….he was afraid that the Albanian mob would come after me…and his place was the safest. Afterwards, I just stayed….never went back home."

"Ah…so you found someone…or rather your heart found someone…in New York." Garret raised an eyebrow.

"I…guess so."

"You guess?"

"Yeah." Jordan blew out a sigh and took Garret's hand. "I can be honest with you, Gar. Woody's….Woody's…."

"A hard act to follow who is still tap dancing on your heart."

Jordan nodded. "Will I ever get over him?"

Garret carefully studied her for a moment. "You know what you said about your one true love."

Jordan hesitated. "Yeah. You never really get over them…you just move on."

"So…then, how do you feel about this DA Jack McCoy?"

"He's a great guy…tall, salt and pepper hair, brown eyes…"

"Sounds yummy…" Garret gave her another weak grin.

Jordan chuckled out loud. "He's smart, pursues justice with a vengeance and his heart, and his dad was a cop…"

"Sounds the masculine version of you. You two getting together could be volatile."

Jordan smiled. "Possibly."

"But you didn't answer my question, Jordan. How do you feel about McCoy? Do you love him?" Garret reached out and caught her chin so that she was looking him in the eyes.

"I…I don't know. Hell, I'm not even sure love really exists. I think it's just something fairy tales produced only to be choked out by the cold fingers of reality."

"You're a cynic…and that's not always a good thing."

"Maybe so…but my heart's not getting broken again. It hurt too much the last time."

"Jordan, I've never been one to give you advice…mainly because you never take it. But love…true love…does exist. It's a once in a life time thing. And even if you only have it for a short while….it's worth it. You'll never feel more alive…and you owe it to yourself to experience it at least once. So if it's with Jack, go for it. Give your heart to the man…I think it will be safe. At least from what I've heard."

"What you've heard?"

"Yeah…Betty called me shortly after you got to New York. Asked me if we were in cahoots with some prank and if you ever had practiced law. When I questioned her about it, she mentioned a Claire Kincaid…said you were a dead ringer for the lady. She went on to tell me Claire used to be Jack's girlfriend…and how the man adored her. Worshipped the ground she walked on….took care of her. If Jack loves you the same way, and you love him, you'd be a fool to turn him down."

"But what if I'm not sure…what if my heart still thinks it wants Woody?"

"Then, Jordan, do you want to risk his rejection again? That's the question you've go to ask."

"When did love get to be so complicated? I thought Prince Charming was supposed to ride up on his white horse, sweep you off your feet, and both of you ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after."

"Happily ever after usually comes with a price, Jordan. Decisions that have life time consequences."

Jordan sighed. "I know…but right now, I just want you to rest and get better."

"I will. I just hate I had to pull you in from New York…but you're the only one I can trust to run the morgue as well as I did."

"Did? Don't you mean _do_? Run the morgue as well as you do?" Jordan asked, startled at his implication.

Garret shook his head. "Did. At least for a while. The doctor says my heart attack was brought on by stress. I think all the years of work…carrying the load….then Slokum just took its toll on me. I want some time off….and when I get back, I want someone to share the load. And I want that someone to be you."

Jordan just stared at Garret for a minute…not sure of what to say. "I don't…I'm flattered…."

Garret grinned. "The broken road led back home, Jordan. Now you've got to decide who you want to walk the rest of the way with you -- wherever that road leads."

* * *

_Who to walk it with me?_

That question circled around Jordan's head and heart for several days. In many ways, it was good to be back in Boston, back in her old office, back to her old friends, back to her old routine. Since she was effectively filling in for Garret, she didn't answer many calls, and as a result, for the first week or so her contact with Woody was limited to a few passing "hellos" in the hall and an occasional "How are you doing?" Jordan had never known the amount of paperwork Garret had to process was so massive.

She and Jack still talked nightly. She missed him…missed the security he provided. Missed their conversations. But to be honest, Jack was the only thing she missed about New York. The longer she stayed in Boston, the more she realized she didn't want to go back there. Boston was home. That much she was clear on.

Woody….Woody was a different story. Seeing him, despite the fact that they weren't really working together, brought many of her old emotions to the surface she thought she had long buried.

She kept trying to push them back down. But the harder she tried, the more they kept resurrecting themselves. And they conflicted with what one part of her brain was telling her about Jack. Jordan struggled to keep them separate and was doing what she considered to be a damn fine job until one evening at her apartment.

Woody had been waiting…and waiting …and waiting for a chance to talk with her again.

And she had been avoiding him like a bad ten pounds of fluid weight gain you get during that time of the month.

He was a patient man…he also realized that much of Jordan's reaction to him was directly his fault. He had pushed her away. She had retreated. Ran so far away that he didn't know if he would ever be able to get her back. He needed to know if they stood even the slightest possibility of reconciliation. She had told him little at Jack's apartment, and even less during their flight back to Boston from New York – her thoughts had been consumed with Garret.

But even the most patient man has his limits…and Woody had reached his. He was ready to find out if he still had any chance with the whiskey-eyed brunette that had haunted his dreams for the past four years. He drove to her apartment and hesitated for only a second before knocking.

It seemed to take her much longer than that to answer the door. "Woody?" This time her voice was softer and unless he was mistaken, he heard a slight note of confusion.

"Can we talk? Do you have time?" he asked, leaning on her door frame?

"Is this about a case?" She opened her door wider to let him come in.

"No…actually I wanted to continue to conversation we started in Jack's apartment."

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That." He regarded her for a moment…his eyes traveling over her body…from the top of her head to the toes of her bare feet.

"What else do you want to know?" She propped against her the island that ran the length of her kitchen.

"What we had …together….at one time….is it still there? In the smallest way, is it still there?"

Jordan felt her heart rate increase rapidly. She wasn't ready to confront her feelings, because she wasn't sure what she felt herself. _When in doubt, avoid…._ she thought. "Look, Wood, it's late and I really don't want to be having this conversation right now. I'm tired…you're tired….it's been a long week…"

"No…." Woody cut her off, running his fingers through his hair and circling the room, finally coming back to stand in front of her. "Look…I admit it…I screwed up. I told you to get out of my life…but I never figured you'd really do it…I mean, you never do anything else I've ever asked you to do. But you did this time…You not only left, you went away and found someone else."

"You're the one who said there was nothing for me to stay in Boston for. That you were moving on and so should I."

"But I was wrong."

"You were?"

Woody nodded. "I never really meant it…I mean, I figured it would be like any other time we've had a fight….eventually…we'd find the road back to each other…. That eventually…we'd be back together. I just need to know, Jordan, if there's any of me left in your heart?" He was standing so close to her now that she could feel his breath on her cheek. "I need to know…" he said again, softly, lifting her chin so she was looking him in the eyes.

"Woody…." She never had a chance to complete whatever it was she was going to say. He simply lowered his lips and claimed hers.


	12. Woody Gets the Girl

**A/N Okay guys….I've read my e-mails and my reviews…and the fact is that my audience is pretty evenly split between those wanting Jordan to end up with Woody and those that want her to end up with Jack. And to be honest, I was pretty well split between the two myself because I like both characters.**

**So…..**

**I wrote two endings.**

**Read this chapter if you want her to end up with Woody. Go to the next chapter if you want her to be with Jack.**

**Never accuse me of not trying to please my audience.**

**Have fun…and enjoy…**

**Sherri**

**Chapter Twelve A**

**Woody Gets the Girl**

It wasn't a kiss that was full of innocence. No. Not by a far cry. It was long and slow…wet and deep. The kind a man gives a woman he loves.

The kind a man gives a woman when he wants to know if she loves him. When he wants answers. And not necessarily with words.

Jordan couldn't breathe…all she could do was respond….with the kiss growing more heated by the minute…his tongue dueling with hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her…of which she was glad…because if his arms weren't there, she was sure she'd fall…her knees were already giving on her.

Finally, after breathless minutes, he gently eased back. "Is there, Jordan?" he asked "Is there any room in your heart left for me? I don't care how small…even if it's just a corner…I'll take it…"

"I thought you didn't want me in your life anymore."

"I was wrong…so wrong."

Jordan hesitated for a minute…but to deny what her heart was telling her would be short changing herself …Woody…and Jack.

But there was no way she wanted to be hurt again. Hesitantly she looked up into his eyes. "Woody…are you sure? I mean, I couldn't handle it again if at some point you turned to me and told me to get out of your life again…I just couldn't …" Her voice broke slightly on the last word.

Pulling her back against him, cradling her head on his chest, he replied. "I think I need to be asking _you_ that question. Are you sure you want to risk it with me?"

Jordan looked into those blue eyes for a long minute, weighing her options. She could settle for what Jack offered…stability… a kind of love…

But not the type that made her lose her breath, her knees go weak, her heart nearly pound out of her chest, and her whole world stop with the mere touch of his hand.

_Love, true love…does exist, Jordan. And even if you only have it for a short while, it's worth it…_ Garret's words filled her mind. Was it worth it?

Was _he_ worth it?

Could she survive if he left her…like nearly everyone else in her life had done?

_Even if you only have it for a short while, it's worth it…._Again, Garret's words echoed through her mind. Jordan swallowed hard. It would be worth it…he was worth it. Worth the risk…worth even the heartbreak, if that happened.

"Woody…" she began, getting lost in his eyes and the touch of his hand that was gently massaging the back of her neck… "My feelings for you haven't changed…not a bit…I love you…I tried moving on, but my heart remained with you…I can't imagine…" She didn't get any further. He claimed her lips again.

"And I promise, this time, your heart is safe…I've lived without you nearly a whole year, knowing that another man could be becoming closer to you than I've ever been. That nearly ate me up inside. I vowed if I could ever get you back in Boston, I'd never let you leave again… at least without me. I love you, Jordan Cavanaugh."

He kissed her again, slow, wet, and deep. But this time there was a difference. This time it was a kiss of promise and possession…for her as well as him. And this time Woody didn't break the kiss, he simply picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, loving her until there was no doubt in Jordan's mind how he felt.

_Garret was right_, Jordan reflected later, cuddled close against Woody's side, her head on his chest. True love was worth the risk…and if it was inevitable, then all the broken roads in the world couldn't keep the right two people apart.


	13. Jack Gets the Girl

**Okay…for all you Jack-lovers, here it is…and I promise the ghost of Claire Kincaid won't interfere at all.**

**I hope you can sort of realize how _hard_ this was for me to write as a die-hard Woody/Jordan 'shipper. For the first time in my fanfics, Woody didn't get the girl…sob. And that's why it took me soooo long to update.**

**Enjoy!**

**Sherri**

**Chapter Twelve B**

**Jack Gets the Girl**

It wasn't a kiss that was full of innocence. No. Not by a far cry. It was long and slow…wet and deep. The kind a man gives a woman he loves.

The kind a man gives a woman when he wants to know if she loves him. When he wants answers. And not necessarily with words.

But Jordan couldn't do it. And she was sure that her answer wasn't going to make Woody happy.

"Woody," she began, abruptly pulling away to look him in the eyes. Despite everything, she and Woody had always been friends first. She hoped they could still remain so after she told him what he didn't want to hear. "I do care for you…deeply…far more than you will ever know."

"That's good…at least it's a start, Jor. We can go as slowly as you like this time…I promise I won't push…no rings, nothing…not until you're ready. And when you are ready…"

"That's just it, Woody," Jordan said interrupting him. Maybe if she told him the truth quickly, it wouldn't sting so much. "I'm not ready. I'm never going to be ready…at least not with you." She said the last word on a whisper.

"But you said you cared…"

"I do… just not in that way. As a friend, Woods, I love you. But nothing more…and certainly nothing less."

"Why? You told me at one time you loved me…"

Jordan pulled away from him then, walking across the apartment to her living room, her back now to Woody, her fingers nervously twisting themselves in knots. "I know. And you told me to screw my pity and get out…move on with my life…and I did. I have." She turned to face him then. "That hurt. It broke my heart. I don't ever want to feel that way again…I know my timing sucked, but that didn't mean that it wasn't the truth – that I didn't mean it."

"And now?"

"Now…I just can't go back to where we were. Where I really wanted us to go…I would constantly be wondering if you're feelings were changing…if there would come a time in our lives together when you would tell me to leave. Or leave yourself. Mom left me…Dad left me…And even Garret left me for a while. All of them were people that I love and are important to me…I couldn't give my heart to a man and constantly be on pins and needles wondering if he was going to do the same thing. And I would be doing that with you. I can't live my life that way. I'm sorry, Woody."

Woody sighed and stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. "So it's over."

"I think it was over before it really got a chance to start." Jordan lowered her eyes. Even though she knew she was doing the right thing, it didn't make it any less painful. She could possibly be looking at a future without anyone by her side that cared the least bit.

"I'll go now."

"I think that would be the best idea."

Woody walked to her door, but paused before opening it. "If you change your mind.."

"I won't."

The door opened and then closed with a thud. Jordan waited on the tears that she was sure would come. Only they didn't. She remained surprisingly calm. She got ready for bed, washing her face and donning her tank top and boxers. On a whim, she picked up her cell phone and called Jack's apartment. There wasn't an answer. Then she tried the direct number to his office. No answer there either. And his cell phone went straight to voice mail. _Must be out on the town,_ Jordan thought, somewhat dejectedly. _I wonder if he still misses me_.

She fell into a fitful sleep, waking the next morning feeling unrefreshed and rumpled. An extra layer of concealer went under her eyes to belie the dark circles softly smudging her pale cheeks.

Thankfully, she was in her office most of the morning, taking care of Garret's usual load of paper work, when a knock at the door pulled her attention away from the forms she was filling out in triplicate.

"Up for a game of pool, Cavanaugh?"

There he was, looking casually handsome…white shirt, navy pants, tie loose around his neck and his coat thrown over one shoulder.

"Jack…" was the only word she could get out as she made her way from her desk to him, trying to remind herself to breathe. When he caught her and pulled her close, she had to remind herself again. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you…I want a game of pool." He smiled at her then, the movement causing the laugh lines around his eyes to turn up in the way that Jordan loved most.

"Well, you're on, McCoy." She pulled away to get her coat, but Jack tugged her back to him.

"That's not the whole truth, Jo." He came all the way into her office then, shutting the door behind him. He led her over to the couch where they both sat down. "I've missed you like hell, Jordan. Since you left New York, I've been a bastard to everyone…more so than usual. Serena was ready to hand in her resignation. Briscoe finally told me to follow my heart to Boston and get the hell out of New York. So after a night of too much bourbon and the sound of my heart breaking, I realized he was right.

"I knew what Garret had told you…that he needed you to share the load here. And I've been wanting a slower pace for a while now…and a change. So….I called Rene' Walcott to see if there was a position open here…I was surprised to find out that she had just had a baby and would welcome my assistance as she was wanting to spend more time with her daughter."

"Does…does…that mean…" Jordan began to ask, almost fearful that the good news wasn't true.

"It does….I'm in Boston."

"Oh, Jack…"

"So does that mean I get my game of pool?"

* * *

Two games later, Jordan found herself back at her apartment with Jack. He quietly took in her bohemian style apartment, thinking how much the furnishings reflected her…unconventional, smart…sexy. He pulled her into his arms. "Do you know how much I've missed you?" he asked, brushing her hair off her shoulders so he could kiss her neck.

"I hope you're about to show me….I know how much I've missed you."

"How much have you missed me, Jordan?"

"Enough to burn the bridges of my past."

"You told Hoyt to go away?" His voice sounded of both incredulousness and relief.

She nodded.

"Are you sure, Jordan….very sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Then hold that thought…" Jack released her long enough to pull a CD from his coat pocket and put it in her player. As the familiar strains of Rascal Flatts _God Blessed the Broken Road_ floated through her apartment, he gently danced her through the living room into the bedroom, him undressing her and her doing the same to him along the way.

Later, as the sun was setting, painting the room with the colors of the sunset, Jack pulled her close and sighed with deep contentment….feeling a peace he hadn't known in a long while…and he knew it was because of Jordan. "I love you, Jordan Marie Cavanaugh. And I will never leave you, or ask you to leave….you've got me for keeps, whether you like it or not."

Jordan raised herself up on one elbow to look him in the eyes…his beautiful, whiskey-colored eyes that always looked at her with such warmth and affection that her knees always seemed to give out on her. "I love you, too. And I like it very much."

She settled back down on his chest again, pulling the sheets a little closer around them to ward off the early evening chill. Soon, too soon, they would need to think about dinner, but right now, they were both happy and satisfied right where they were, as the last line of the Rascal Flatts song echoed around the room one more time..

_That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you_…


End file.
